All these secrets I'm
So desperate to keep
But holding them in is like
Not being able to sleep
It's such a long drive
Back to town in the night
The streetlights are out
And every sound made
Is coming from you and me
Where we're out of sight
We could talk about
Whatever we want, stories trade
Check the clock again
Thirteen o'clock never came
So fast before, so fast
Studio B
- Mark
- When you need to wake up in the morning, and set the right mood for the day, when you need to escape from the overwhelming everything of life. What do you turn to? How do you describe your core without speaking aloud, without having to talk to someone about it? This is how. Music. Lyrics. Poetry. Do you feel it? Do you? It's here, it's everywhere, locked within you, within the most tone deaf of us. It's begging to be released, become unleashed in a tearing chord, a crying melody, soulful harmony, dying lyric. You feel it yet? It's concealed here, within every word that I write. This is my release. I want you to see it, to feel it with me. This pure expression of every tangible and imaginable emotion known and unknown to man. To me. Welcome to The Window.